


Promise

by agentcalliope



Series: Promise(s) [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Female Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Male-Female Friendship, May loves these kids, Team as Family, and they love her, mama may, season 3 hiatus, the bus kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7902049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentcalliope/pseuds/agentcalliope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times May makes a promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May promises Jemma

He looks so… small.

That’s it. That’s the first and only description that occurs to her as she slips quietly through the door. His curly hair is plastered to his forehead, and his hands lie straight by his side and it’s so unnatural because as long as she’s known him those hands have created and gestured but have never once rested.

Except, now, they’re quiet and unmoving and it seems wrong.

The machine that breathes for him looms nearby, omitting the only sound that somehow thunders and roars in her ears and May just can’t tear her eyes from the bed, watching his chest rise and fall with the beep of the machine.

He’s so still, so silent. So small.

He’s just a kid, but he’s another kid she failed to save.

A kid caught in a fight caught in the crosshairs of battle and it really is only the innocents who suffer in war.

 

May wishes she could’ve protected him,

She wishes she did more than crush Ward’s larynx.

 

She’s pulled out of her thoughts when there’s a soft rustle, a whimper which makes the noise of the machine seem like nothing at all.

Somehow, besides this boy who looks so small, is a girl who looks even smaller.

Simmons’ sleeping in the chair besides his bed, slouched over in her seat with an open book draped across her legs and this is when May’s years of training kicks in.

 

She estimates by the state of her rumpled clothes that Simmons has been in that chair for 30 minutes by now.

(How long she was there, reading to him and sitting by his side May isn’t sure of)

 

She knows that at one point, Simmons’s intelligent, melodic voice as she read aloud began to quiver, needing to pause and gulp for air in an attempt to calm herself down. And then there’s the tissues that lay in heaps on the floor, screaming at May, telling her that those eager eyes tinted with burden and fear grew wet, and soon tears poured and poured out until she was empty.

 

May doesn’t know how this small, empty, broken scientist still hasn’t stop trying to pull the pieces back together.

 

Closing the door shut behind her, May picks her way over to Simmons and crouches down, making sure her voice is soft as she speaks.

“Simmons, come on.”

It’s not a question because it’s not up for negotiation. There are dark bags underneath her eyes and although it’s only been about a week since she was at the bottom of the ocean Jemma Simmons looks like she’s aged _years_.

_Only the innocents suffer in war._

Simmons’ eyes don’t even open as she responds.

“No.”

May tries again.

“Simmons—”

“ _No!_ ”

She bolts upright and the book falls to the floor with a thud, eyes ablaze with a fire set deep within.

“I have to be here. I have to—what if he wakes up, and there’s no one? And he’s all alone? No. I have to stay.”

Simmons settles back down into the chair, gripping the ends of the chair with her hands as if May is going to try to tear her away and she has to hold on for dear life.

 

May doesn’t move, but she doesn’t hesitate either.

“Let me.”

Simmons takes a deep, shuddering breath, and she’s trembling all over and May places her hand gently on her shoulder.

“Go to bed, and let me stay here and wait until you come back. If he wakes up, I’ll come get you.”

Simmons’ doesn’t answer, turning her gaze towards Fitz and her brows furrow as if she’s trying to communicate with him still in that strange psychically linked way that only Fitzsimmons can speak and she’s trying to tell him to _wake up wake up now_.

May looks on with her, looking at the small boy in the bed then back at the small girl in the chair. “I promise.”

She means it.

Of course she does.

Simmons must sense it too, because she finally relents, nodding and letting May help her up. The chair creaks as Simmons stands up, and May moves with her out the door and down the hall but somehow the beeping of the machine still rings in May’s ears.

*******

Simmons goes to bed, and May takes her place. She looks at the textbook that lies abandoned on the floor and looks at the door and then finally looks at Fitz.

May leans in, and she whispers.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve seen Ward, I should’ve known—” May pauses, trying to piece together the thoughts that race through her mind. “—I should’ve been there, for both of you.”

She hesitantly reaches out and takes his hand in hers. “Wake up, Fitz,” she commands, “you have to wake up.”

May pulls back, settles into the chair, and then she waits.

She promised that she’ll wait and although she still doesn’t know how this girl is trying to pull the pieces back together, May’s damn sure that she’s not going to be the reason the pieces crumble altogether.

(She doesn’t think about the pieces she’s trying to pull back together either)

So she waits and she waits, and she waits even when Simmons comes back and the minutes and the hours and the days go by May waits for Fitz to wake up.

 

On the ninth day, he does.


	2. Fitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May promises Fitz

When they arrive at the Playground, the entrance of the Zephyr releasing with a hiss of air, Jemma doesn’t move, and she doesn’t speak. She just leans further into him, gripping his shirt through clenched fists, squeezing her eyes shut.

May watches on silently.

Her wrists are rubbed red and angry, face cut and bruised but this is Simmons and Simmons has always thought of herself last.

 

The rest of the team has left the plane by now, but Lincoln approaches Fitz and Simmons. Daisy’s by his side, and it’s obvious by their gestures and Daisy’s furrowed brows that they’re trying to get Simmons to follow him to the medical bay and she’s not leaving. Simmons shakes her head furiously while Fitz stares into the space in front of him, his mind somewhere else.

May knows that face, what it means.

(god knows she sees it every damn time she looks in the mirror)

 

This is when May gets up, and walks over.

“Jemma,” May begins, Lincoln and Daisy falling into a hush as she approaches. “Go with him. You know that you need medical attention.”

She doesn’t wait to witness Jemma’s reaction to her brute honesty, because she turns to Fitz and lays a hand on his shoulder.

He blinks, tilting his head up to look at her with unfocused eyes.

“Come on. There’s a first aid kit in my bunk.”

He stares at her.

She stares back.

“Fine.” He brushes her hand off his shoulder abruptly and, with a curt glance towards Jemma, walks briskly away.

For the first time in her life, May has to hurry to follow him.

*******

Like she had waited in the hospital room, waiting beside a white bed, waiting for a boy to wake up, May waits for him to realize he doesn’t know where he’s going.

But this is Fitz, and Fitz is stubborn. They pass by the kitchen, hallways empty except the sounds of their shoes on the floor and May’s keeping close to Fitz, because although she’s letting him lead the way, she’s keeping a close eye on the dried blood at his hairline, determining the severity of his injury.

(if it was really serious, she would’ve grabbed him, and run)

 

They make a loop pass the lab twice before he slows down, coming to a complete stop and taking a deep breath.

“Um…” He begins, dropping his head and pinching his nose with his forefinger and thumb, “I don’t actually know where your bunk is.”

“I know.”

He casts his eyes in her direction, and doesn’t reply, shoulders sagging and suddenly looking very, very tired.

And small.

He suddenly looks so small.

 

“Come on,” she says for the second time that night. “Follow me.”

And he does.

*******

Once she wipes the blood away, all that’s there is a small scratch, but May doesn’t question that it will scar.

(Perhaps in more ways than one)

She’s comfortable in the silence that’s encompassed them, but he’s obviously not-- fidgeting and darting his eyes around the room.

It used to be his hands that always gestured and created and moved. Now it’s his body and eyes that move, always on the precipice, ready to run.

May clears her throat before she speaks. “You remember that time you took a nap, and you woke up with whipped cream all over your face?”

She reaches into the kit for a bandage.

“What?” Fitz’s voice cracks with exhaustion and confusion, his eyebrows raised in puzzlement. “I mean, yeah. But why?”

May can’t stop herself from grinning, giving him a shrug as she places the bandage over his wound.

(if only she could do more than put bandages on their wounds)

“That was me.”

“That was— that was _you?”_ Fitz asks, astonished. He seems lost in thought as she pulls away, checking him over quickly for more signs of injuries but it seems that the only wounds that are left are inside.

 

“We can’t be heroes all the time, you know.” She huffs, pretending to be more annoyed than she actually is but this time it’s his confession that takes her off-guard.

“I know.”

She stares at him.

He stares back.

 

Before she can over think it and before he can react, May leans over and hugs him, as if her arms wrapped around him could erase years of hurt and sorrow and pain.

She breaks away, leaving him sitting on the bed watching her with wide eyes. She’s walking across the room when she answers his silent question.

“You need to clean up. Use my shower; it’s private. Towels are on the rack in the closet. I’m going to get you clean clothes.”

“You—you are going to go into my bunk? You can’t do that!” Fitz sputters.

 

May cocks her head to the side and musters her biggest glare. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve done it before.”

Fitz starts to laugh, and May feels herself give way to a slight grin.

She wants to mention something before she leaves, though.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“What, my head?” Fitz asks, grinning.

She pauses halfway out the door, her hand grasping the frame. May looks back at this man sitting on a bed who was only just recently a small boy lying on a bed and her smile feels haunted with memory and sadness.

“No. Everything. Everyone.”

Fitz’s not laughing anymore, his smile disappearing and the light in his eyes fading.

 

He doesn’t believe her.

 

 

“I promise.” May concludes.

 

When Fitz opens the bathroom door, a set of clothes is neatly folded on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think you all know who the last chapter will be about :)


	3. Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She knew she couldn't find Daisy on her own, so she didn't.

She knew she couldn't find Daisy on her own, so she didn't.

 

Fitz’s fingers fly on the keyboard, eyes flashing with determination and darting between the multiple screens he set up in their van. Jemma sits by his side mindlessly stirring a cup of tea with her lips pursed, head tilted to the side. After a few minutes of nothing but the clacking of keys and Fitz’s frustrated groans as Daisy flees from them again and again, Jemma speaks.

“What about --”

“Nope, tried that.” Fitz interrupts, massaging his forehead with his fingers. They’re all getting tired, cooped up in this small space and running after Daisy and running out of excuses for the Director.

And yet, somehow they keep going.

Jemma’s voice is laced with frustration and adoration, a strange combination of sorts that somehow seems to work. “But you don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“Well, chances are I’ve already tried it!”

“Oh, Fitz!”

“Don’t ‘Oh Fitz’ me!”

May watches quietly as they bicker, sitting sideways in the driver’s seat with an atlas spilled across her lap, x’s in red marking all the places they’ve been.

 

(the map is growing redder and redder with each move they make, but the spaces in between seem to grow only larger)

 

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and shifts in her seat as Jemma puts down her mug and tries to get her hands on the keyboard, straining to push Fitz out of the way despite his protests. A coy grin erupts on Jemma’s face, and without hesitation she grabs his face and kisses him passionately, and as he leans forward to further their kiss Jemma shoves his chair away and resumes his place in front of the screens, cackling in delight, Fitz groaning.

 

May droops her head slightly, the strand of hair she previously tucked falling again to become a curtain hiding her face. She pretends to be concentrating on the map, but she’s lost in her memories.

 

A small boy lying on a bed who became a man whose hands once again create and gesture and move, never staying still.

A broken girl waiting for a boy to wake up who became a woman whose brain can chart galaxies and doesn’t wait but does what she can and does her best.

 

Oh, how far they’ve come.

And May’s damn sure glad to see that this boy who looked so small and this girl who tried to pull the pieces back together finally found each other.

It’s enough for her to smile.

 

(It’s enough for her to believe that perhaps these children she failed to save were children she was not _meant_ to save— because, if she had, then they wouldn't have saved themselves.

And all this time they’ve been picking themselves up from the ground and picking each other up from the ground, May has only been there to catch them when they fall.)

 

May _will_ be there to catch them when they fall.

 

She focuses on the unmarked spaces between the red.

*******

(Later, Fitz will say that May must’ve pulled some strings— found a couple of contacts from the days before SHIELD fell, meeting with them in the dead of night as he and Jemma slept. How else did she know Daisy was going to be in _that_ small town?

Jemma will say that May simply used her skills— using tricks taught from the days before SHIELD fell, honing in on them as she drove through the streets as she and Fitz were combing through data. How else did she know Daisy was going to be on _that_ street on _that_ night?

May lets them think what they think.

 

It’s better than telling them the truth that she barely understands herself; that it was something in her gut that led May stop the van abruptly as they meaninglessly traveled through a dead town, and take a sudden right turn. That something she can’t explain whispered _she’s here she’s here Daisy is here,_ and May chose to listen.

Nothing more, nothing less.)

 

They pull up behind the only other vehicle parked on the street, a van not unlike theirs, and sit there for a moment or two as the night sky hovers above.

“Do you think—” Jemma gently begins.

“— that that’s Daisy?” Fitz gently finishes.

 

May only thinks that the whisper has grown into a scream, and she opens her door.

 

They knock repeatedly, they say her name, they peer into the tinted windows—

nothing.

Daisy’s not there.

 

(The scream turns into an earthquake, and that’s when May sees down the way a little patch of green, and a bench.

There’s a silhouette against the harsh glow of the streetlamp, and May touches Fitz and Jemma’s arms.

They look, and then they walk.)

 

“I knew someone would catch up, someday.” Daisy states, not bothering to turn around to gaze at them. She’s scrunching her nose and leaning her head on the edge of the bench, eyes lifted to the heavens.

Her position and her voice give off the impression that she’s bored and indifferent, like she couldn’t care less.

May knows it’s not true; because if Daisy didn’t care, she wouldn’t be running.

And she’s been running for a long, long time.

 

She’s been trying to pick herself off the ground for a long, long time.

(And May’s been trying to catch her ever since)

 

“When I said that putting yourself into a box wasn’t going to fix anything, I didn’t mean leaving would.” May says, coming around the side of the bench and sitting next to her. Daisy shifts to a sitting straight position, and glares at May.

May sees herself reflected in those eyes, in more ways than one.

“If you’re here to try bring me back, then you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“We aren’t.” Fitz scurries around the opposite side of the bench, coming directly in front of her.

“What?” Daisy’s harden expression abruptly changes into one of confusion.

“We aren’t here to bring you back.” Jemma repeats, appearing next to Fitz, nodding enthustically.

Daisy turns to May, and waits for an response.

“You need time. You won’t get better being back at the base alone with your guilt, because that’s no better than a box. But you can’t run forever, Daisy, because your mind becomes that box and you can’t escape yourself.”

Fitz and Jemma step closer, and May places her hand over for Daisy’s.

She doesn’t wrench it away.

 

“We can’t force you to come back, but that doesn’t mean that you can _never_ come back. It doesn’t mean that we aren’t waiting for you.”

May reaches into her pocket and pulls out a burner phone, pressing it into Daisy’s palm.

“When you’re ready, call us. Just don’t take too long.”

Jemma smiles weakly and Fitz watches Daisy with sadness in his eyes and May stands up, and they all start to walk away.

“How do I know when I’m ready?” Daisy whispers, low and small and afraid.

May looks back towards the girl who cares too much, who May’s come to care for so much.

“You’ll know,” May answers. “I promise.”

 

 

(And she did)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so so to so many people who encouraged me and eased me through this piece. Bioforensics, dilkrani, agl03, grapehyasyth, welldonefitz, wakandandperthshire, buckysbears, clearascountryair and omgfitzsimmons, I love you guys like May loves these kids <3
> 
> Edit: hOW could i forget lapiccolina???? somehow i did, which is a crime because she has been my number one from the start!! love you Theresa! :)

**Author's Note:**

> so so so many people to thank for supporting me and this fic and tolerating my weak a**. I will formally thank you all during the last chapter to give me more incentive to WRITE IT.


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